Happy Birthday, Harry
by nevthebunny
Summary: On his birthday, 22 year old Harry Potter reflects on the worst year of his life. He would take his year on the run over this. Oneshot


**A/N Hi people! This is my first Potter fic :) I've been threatening to post it for quite some time so enjoy and R&R.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did I would be rich.**

Harry Potter sat alone in his study, poring over _Hogwarts: A History_. Hermione had finally convinced him to read it but he sadly didn't get the same level of enjoyment from it as she did. His watch, which had once belonged to Fabian Prewett, beeped. It had taken him three years to work out how to program the watch to make a sound. Out of nostalgia he had set it for 00.00 on July 31st 2002 as his cousin's old Muggle watch had chimed at this exact second, 11 years ago.

'_Happy 22__nd __Birthday, Harry,' _he thought to himself.

He doubted anyone would remember it as there were more important things on his friends' minds at that moment. Mind you, even if there was going to be a big party he would have had to sneak out; what reason was there to celebrate the past year of his life?

Harry got up, crossed the room and opened his pensieve cabinet. He realised that he needed to confront the memories of his past so that he might be able to sleep at night; insomnia did not suit the world's favourite young hero. However, he surprised himself as the memories he sought were not those of war and Voldemort but instead memories of his wife and his surrogate family.

Taking a deep breath, he entered the pensieve. The scene formed around him.

'_Typical,' _he thought, '_why Weasley weddings are always so doomed to failure is beyond me.' _However, he couldn't help but smile at the cloudless day at the Burrow and the beautiful bride advancing down the aisle towards the younger Harry. Suddenly a young man, no older than Ginny, apparated directly in front of her, forcing her to halt as Hermione crashed into her from behind.

He was very tall, even taller than the tallest Weasley (Bill), with waves of blond hair tucked neatly behind his ears. It wasn't a white blond like that of Draco Malfoy but more rich; it reminded him of rays of sunshine, even now almost a year later. The couple had been married on 11th August, Ginny's 20th birthday as Mrs. Weasley refused to have a married teenage daughter and Ginny refused to wait any longer than necessary.

As she looked up at him, Ginny's eyes widened in recognition, "Andrew," she whispered. A few things clicked in the on looking Harry's brain. "What are you doing here?" Ginny continued. Harry decided to get closer.

In the real event he had never discovered what Andrew was doing, apparating right into the middle of the wedding. Andrew flicked a _Muffliato _towards Mr. Weasley, Hermione and Luna who were the only people within hearing distance.

"I love you, Ginny," replied the stranger, "don't marry him, and come with me." Harry was shocked but very glad he hadn't heard the exchange; after all he had had eleven months of happy-ish marriage.

"No, I can't, Andrew, I love him," she hissed back urgently. "Please just go home."

"I see." Harry couldn't see Andrew's face in the shadow of the marquee. "You choose him after everything I did for you when he left. What happens when he leaves next time? I won't be around to pick up the pieces." Pausing only to watch Ginny's stricken face, Andrew disapparated.

Harry could remember how distant Ginny had been since the exchange, only he had put it down to the stresses of being Harry Potter's wife. After all that she had married him and they had been happy. The scene changed.

He was at the Burrow again but this time three months later. After the death of Fred Weasley, the family had fallen apart so Arthur, in one of his rare light bulb moments, decided to call a family dinner every month. The entire family was sat around the table: Molly, Arthur, Bill, Fleur, their two daughters, Charlie, Percy, his girlfriend, George, Angelina, Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny as well as Andromeda Tonks and Teddy.

Suddenly Harry felt a burst of happiness as he watched the newlyweds. Ginny pulled a crumb out of his unruly hair and they smiled at each other, lost in each others' eyes.

"Oi, mate," Ron clobbered Harry round the head. "No staring at each other."

"Leave us alone, Ron," scowled Ginny ferociously.

However, after dinner when everyone had reconvened to the sitting room, Harry noticed that Ginny was missing. He could see himself recounting some adventure in the Auror office to Percy but could not see his wife anywhere. Even worse, he couldn't recall noticing that she wasn't there at the time.

'_Great husband I was,'_ he thought bitterly to himself.

Out of the window, though, he saw her. She appeared to be arguing with someone who was clearly disillusioned. Without a thought, Harry sprinted out of the house towards her. At her words a chill ran down his spine. There had been all these clues and yet he had still been oblivious.

"Go away, Drew, I told you last time and I'll no doubt tell you again in the future, I'm happily married." Andrew seemed to have noticed the doubt in her voice just as easily as Harry did.

"Fine but I hope for your sake I'm still around when you realise that he isn't the guy for you. You already doubt him." There was a crack and Ginny began to hurry back to the house.

The grounds of the Burrow dissolved and Harry was relieved to be in a memory without Ginny but that relief soon drifted away as he realised which memory he was in. There was a knock on the door. Past Harry knew that it had to be someone he knew because 12 Grimmauld Place was unplottable and under a Fidelius charm.

"Who is it?" he yelled.

"It's me, mate," came a gruff reply, "and Hermione." Harry rushed to the door and opened it just enough to get his wand through. Pointing it at the man he asked, "What was the name your twin brothers called you on Platform 9 ¾ in 1991?"

Ron's answer was a mumble so Harry said, "Speak up."

"Ickle Ronniekins," replied Ron, as red as a beetroot. Harry moved the wand to Hermione.

"Which defence of the Hogwarts grounds did you repeatedly remind me and Ron of while we were there?" he asked.

Hermione sighed. "You can't apparate in and out of the school grounds," she answered.

Harry opened the door. On closer inspection, Ron's lip was trembling and Hermione's eyes were red and puffy. Once they were inside, Harry asked, "What's wrong?"

Hermione began to cry again and Ron took a deep breath. "Remember Hermione's dizzy spells?" he asked tentatively. Harry nodded. "Well I took her to St. Mungo's to get it checked out and she's got hypenucoiosis."

Past Harry stared blankly at Ron. Present Harry wished he was still so ignorant. It was Hermione who answered the unvoiced question, however. "It's a wizarding disease, Harry. It's really bad. The healers say they'll do their best but… I don't have much time left. I probably won't see 30." By the end of her speech she had began to sob. Ron wrapped his arm around her and she cried into his shoulder. Again the scene changed.

This time he was outside 93 Diagon Alley on May 13th 2002. About four paces in front of him were Ron and himself, both coming into work as Ron had began working there to secure more accessible hours after Hermione's diagnosis. Harry had merely had a day off and fancied coming to help. Ron stared through the glass doors of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Something was not right.

A roaring sound could be distinctly heard through the walls, a glow emanated from the flat where George spent the night if he was working on a new product and as soon as Ron wrenched the door open a wave of heat struck them. Past Harry went straight into action.

"Is he in there, Ron?" he asked urgently.

Ron, who had gone deathly pale, replied almost indistinguishable, "Yes."

"Go and get help, Ron. We need lots of people."

"But where will you go?" asked Ron.

"Someone needs to get George out of there."

Ron did not look up to apparating without splinching himself, a warning that Ron seemed to process in his brain, so he ran down the street after applying an amplification spell to his throat.

"Fire at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes!" he screamed.

Harry didn't want to see this, not again. It seemed that in his life he had seen almost all of the Weasleys unconscious or worse. Past Harry bravely dived through the flames, clearing his way with a simple "Aguamenti". This did seem to douse the flames slightly and both Harrys breathed a sigh of relief; it wasn't Fiendfyre. Finally he spotted George.

He was in the flat but luckily the fire hadn't begun there. George was slumped, unconscious, on the floor having clearly passed out from the smoke. Harry felt for a pulse; George was alive but having difficulty breathing. Luckily, he was right next to the window.

"Harry! Where are you?" Ron's amplified voice came through the window. It was accompanied by a whole crowd of shopkeepers' yells of "Aguamenti". He stuck his head out of the window and coughed involuntarily. By some lucky chance, Ron had had the same brainwave. The shopkeeper from Quality Quidditch supplies had brought a couple of broomsticks and conjured a stretcher between them.

As Harry opened the window as far as it would go, Ron and the shopkeeper mounted the brooms. They flew up to the window and collected the two wizards as seamlessly as they could. Harry watched as the past version of him lost focus and blacked out. Yet again the scene dissolved and reformed.

St. Mungo's. How Harry hated that place. After a few hours he had come round to find a very worried and disenchanted Ron. "I hate this place," Ron had said. They had talked about a lot of things that day and Harry felt he needed to watch the time when he and his best friend had had the most meaningful conversation of their lives. With it being only a few weeks subsequent to what had happened with Hermione, Ron's emotions were messed up.

The two young men talked for around an hour mainly about their worry for Hermione and George's condition. The Weasleys, particularly Angelina, were very grateful to Harry for saving the life of yet another member of the family. "It's sort of mental," Ron said. "I mean, you've saved Ginny in the Chamber, Dad from the snake, Mum from Voldemort, me countless times and now George."

George had spent three weeks in St. Mungo's, despite begging to be allowed back to the shop which had been restored as well as possible. In the present day he was alive and well but he had given all of them a scare that day.

The next memory, the final one, was worse for Harry to watch than all the others combined. It would seem to an onlooker that he had left the pensieve and returned to the present but that was not the case. This scene was just three weeks previously and in Harry's study. Past Harry was pacing the room and looking repeatedly at his watch. Finally, he descended the stairs and entered the kitchen.

As a wedding present, Harry's mother in law had given them a clock, similar to the one in the kitchen at the Burrow. At that moment, the hand bearing the name Ginny Potter was pointed at 'Elsewhere'. Suddenly the front door burst open, followed by a blast of air and Harry's wife. As he burst out into the hall, he didn't bother with the usual defense questions but pulled Ginny into a tight hug and exclaimed, "Where were you? I was so worried! The clock said elsewhere so I didn't know what to think."

However, instead of the apologetic response he had expected, Ginny hardened and there was a steely edge in her voice. "It's none of your business where I go or who I see," she snapped.

Past Harry was taken aback until he noticed that she was headed upstairs, despite the dinner that was getting cold on the table.

"Where are you going, Ginny?" he asked her half-jokingly. "Don't you want to eat?"

Halfway up the first flight of stairs, she turned abruptly to look him in the eyes. "I'm leaving, Harry. I've had enough."

Harry was confused. "What do you mean, Gin?" he asked worriedly.

"At our wedding, a man apparated into the middle of the aisle," she began. "Do you remember?" Past Harry shook his head. _I wish I had remembered, _thought present Harry bitterly.

"Well, his name was Andrew and he was in my year at Hogwarts. A Ravenclaw." Ginny answered Harry's automatic unspoken question. "He always liked me but I was too busy chasing older boys to notice. When you left me…" Both Harrys cringed at the reference to the only time the pair refused to speak to each other about. "… he was there for me. We had the same detentions often and sometimes he would take the blame for something I'd done. He was an honorary D.A. member."

Ginny took a deep breath as Harry's expression became upset. "We weren't together then but he wanted to be. When you came back I loved you so much I went straight back to you. But now… I can't do this anymore, Harry. We skirt around all mention of the war, you refuse to even tell me about anything that happened and you're seriously overprotective. I know that's who you are but I'm not the kind of girl to just let you suffocate me. Andrew knew that. He's been trying to talk to me since the wedding and today I actually listened. I'm leaving you, Harry and I'm going to be with Andrew."

She sobbed as she sprinted up the stairs. Neither Harry could bear to see her like this; it caused a knot in their stomachs and lump in their throats.

"Ginny…" Past Harry had called up the stairs. "Ginny, please…"

A solitary tear ran down his cheek as a distant 'pop' was audible. She was gone.

Harry found himself back in his study but he barely registered it. He fell to the floor and sobbed. The tears came for the first time since she left and the floor was saturated with them. The constant ache to the stomach was lessening but the pain in his head was not. In just three weeks he had found himself alone, never daring to go and see Molly or the other Weasleys and none of them coming to Grimmauld Place. He had gone to St. Mungo's to see Hermione, who had taken a turn for the worse. Kreacher was lovely, as always, but the young hero needed human company.

He cried for himself, for Ginny, for Hermione, for George, for Fred, Remus, Tonks, Dumbledore, Sirius, his parents and the hundreds of others that died in the war. Eventually he could cry no more so he stopped. He felt a sudden and overwhelming peace for the first time in years.

He looked at the clock. It was 3.30 in the morning on Wednesday 31st July. His colleagues had insisted he took the day off. Suddenly he felt exhausted.

Knock, knock, knock. Someone was knocking on the door. It was 8 o'clock, Harry had slept! He jumped out of bed, pulled on a dressing gown and sprinted to the door. When he opened it he was stunned to see who was stood there.

"I hope I didn't wake you," she smiled, her red locks glowing in the morning sun. "Happy Birthday, Harry."


End file.
